


Hidden

by Born In Captivity- Ineligible to Release (Jashasedai)



Series: Alternate Universe - Tame Racing Drivers [43]
Category: Motorcycling RPF, motocross - Fandom, motogp - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tame Racing Drivers, Body Horror, Child Abuse, Doubles of Every Character, Horror, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Not applied to the Shipped Couple, Prisoners, Sexual Content, Slavery, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-09 21:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16457135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashasedai/pseuds/Born%20In%20Captivity-%20Ineligible%20to%20Release
Summary: In an AU where a secret is used as Racing Drivers, the FIA's private herd is kept in a stable outside Monaco.  It is where they house the experiments they run to try to make Racing Drivers Better.The team assigned to extract the herd from the FIA headquarters includes one of the Racers who grew up in that very stable.Alvaro Bautista, Johann Zarco, and Ricky Carmichael's Racing Riders.





	1. Misunderstand

**Author's Note:**

> Notes Beginning:  
> This is part of the Tame Racing Drivers AU. Read the series summary.
> 
> The basics are these- All professional racing drivers and riders have double who do the actual racing. The doubles are kept in stables as livestock until it is time to race. They are telepathic and form a telepathic bond with the human who shares their name.
> 
> In the AU, the company that keeps the Racers captive is the company who manages racing, called the FIA.
> 
> In this story, 3 Racers go into a holding facility where experimentation has been done on some of the other Racers. 
> 
> The nature of Racer telepathy allows not only bonds with their human match selves, but Racer to Racer communication, and allows Racers who have learned how to fight mentally by changing what other Racers think and believe. A very few can even go so far as to change how other Racers' minds work.

**Misunderstand**

**Losail International Circuit, Qatar- 2012**

The medical center was the best place to go when you had free time.  It was a building with good air conditioning, a big open space where the chairs for waiting riders always faced north, and glossy books with pictures, and if you waited long enough, and the medics on duty were humans, sometimes they gave you candy on a stick.

Badboy walked up the ramp and opened the door to a wave of cool air, just in time to see a reflection in the mirror of a young, dark haired Racer in a white medic’s coat, telling his unfortunately much smaller human, [No one here understands me.]  The young Racer looked down and tucked his hands under his elbows.

He stepped inside and let the door fall shut behind him.

They were standing on the other side of a white curtain that had been drawn across part of the room.  That was how they would separate injured riders for privacy. The mirror let him see them both quite clearly, though.

[Maybe seeing them more off the track will help.  We’ve barely been at the center, since we moved there.  Maybe working in the medical center will help. Maybe they will see you will not hurt them.]

Hurt who?

Badboy didn’t recognize the young Racer.  He used to know every Rider at the World Motorcycle Center, but there were many more, now, and the Motocross Annex, and the Freestyle Stable.  He could be from anywhere, he could even be a Racing Driver who’d moved from somewhere else. He was obviously a Trainer.

The young Racer’s hand reached out to stroke the helmet sitting on the counter beside the chair where the human medical Trainers wrote on papers.  [This will keep them from believing that.]

[Why don’t you change the picture?]

[Racing Drivers, Riders are different because we are all one stable, show on their helmets where they are from.  What stable their bloodline is, and what their color is. A Racing Driver would not take his bloodline off his helmet, any more than he would take his color affinity off.  Maybe for one race, for a special picture, to mourn or celebrate.] He shook his head. [A Ferrari wouldn’t take the red off his helmet and I won’t take the gold off mine. They can hate me for it, but I have a dam and brothers, too.]

Badboy looked at the gold striping on the young Rider’s helmet.  That answered who he was, then. The stallions had only found one Rider on their recruiting trip to the FIA headquarters.  The herd FIA bred and kept for themselves.

He shook his head.

Childish ignorance, thinking any FIA raised Racing Driver was bad.

The match was rubbing a hand soothingly over his Rider’s back.

FIA Racing Drivers were still Racing Drivers.  No matter where they were born. Or how separate they were kept.

Being bad wasn’t a result of where you were born.  It was a result of what you decided to do. Even a Racer born and raised at one of the oldest, proudest stables could be a Badboy.

Didn’t he know?

He was getting bored standing here, watching their conversation.  He walked around the corner of the curtain and they both jumped back like he’d thrown something at him.

He tapped a fingertip sharply on the dome of the helmet.

He got his first straight on look at the Rider.  He was young. Not so young that Badboy shouldn’t have known him.  Kevin and KDub had brought him home to match seasons and seasons ago, the season Badboy started in the premiere class.  The stallions must have been keeping him in circulation to keep him out of mind. He had dark hair and eyes that could pass for his man’s blue ones, in some lights, he supposed.  He was wearing White, with strategically placed Dark Blue.

That made Badboy smile.

[If they are too stupid to see a Rider can’t be bad and be as much of a good little Racer as you are, then you don’t need them.]  He looked them up and down slowly. [I will make you mine to care for.] He’d never taken on another Rider before, not for real, but another Bi-Tone in the Premiere class would go to evening the score.

The young stallion and his match didn’t move.

Badboy ran a hand thoughtfully over the helmet, turning away and tapping it again as he went.  He took a candy on a stick out of the cup of them on the counter next to it.

[Thank you,] The little stallion told him, [For being nice to me.]

Badboy unwrapped the candy and let go of the wrapper, not watching it fall to the floor.  [You misunderstand me.] He turned back and put the candy in his mouth. [I’m not nice, Diamant.  I just like sweet things.]

He turned again, this time not looking back, and walked out of the medical center.  He made sure the medic stallion knew he would be back to check up on him.

He did like sweet things.

Sweet things like Diamant.


	2. Too Different

**Too Different**

**Mugello Circuit, Italy- 2012**

[You told me to take care of myself,] Badboy leaned his head back while Diamant pinched the washcloth over his bleeding nose.  There were shiny patches on his black jacket that Diamant knew would be blood, if he touched them, and the elbow of it had torn. [Anyway, you should have seen Justice.]

Diamant paused. [You hit Justice?  What did he do, tell a mean story about you?]

[He was being rude.]  Badboy tugged at the stethoscope around Diamant's neck.  [When is your turn at the clinic over? I want to go eat oranges.]

He ignored the tugging.  [Your nose won't stop running, the tube inside is tired of getting broken, you need to let it rest.  Grab the stuff on the table there and rub some on your knuckles. Am I going to be seeing Justice in here, soon?]

[No, he just had some bruises.  I should have broken his ribs, but stallion would be mad.]

I would be mad, too, Diamant thought, was that why you really didn't do it?  He carefully lifted the cloth off Badboy's nose and checked to see if it was still bleeding.  It wasn’t, and he turned and wet a clean corner of the cloth to wipe the blood away with. When he turned back, the blue-eyed blond in the black leather jacket caught both ends of the stethoscope in his hand and pulled him close, kissing him open mouthed, not involving his tongue, just sharing air, while Diamant's eyelids fluttered.

[I love you.]  Badboy released his hold, his eyes still open and watching Diamant's.

He gulped a few times and stood up.  He caressed Badboy's cheek. [I love you, too.]

Rasoio opened the curtain and walked through, not acknowledging either of them or their intimate moment, and pulled a roll of bandage off the shelf.  They both looked out where he'd come to see Duende and X sitting on an exam table, holding hands, both covered in scuff marks from a crash.

Badboy grunted.

Diamant sighed.

Then Badboy said, [He told me you were going to get me into trouble.  That I had to watch out for you, because a sweet colt like me couldn't trust a... stallion like you.]

There was the honesty.  Badboy had one trait that was unusual for a Black.  Honesty. Blunt. Uncompromising. He'd tried to misdirect Diamant, but it had probably been eating at him since he'd said it.  Diamant sighed. A stallion like him.

It meant a stallion born and raised at the Headquarters.  Raised in FIA's own herd.

Tears came to his eyes.

Saying, [You don't have to fight for me,] would be like saying, [You don't have to be that height anymore,] He could say it, but Badboy couldn't change even if he wanted to.

So, he said, [You make messes I have to clean up.]

Badboy shrugged. [Give me a mop, I will help you.]

The tears ran down Diamant's cheeks.  Badboy crowded up behind him and pulled his head down to kiss his cheek.

'Diamond?'  Johann sent, 'Don't cry, Diamond, why are you hurting?'  Where was he? In the garage.

He cleared away his emotional baggage and touched his human's mind.  'Badboy got hurt again, I am sorry about it.'

'May I help you?'  He asked.

'No, thank you, Johann, I am alright.'

'Alright.  Have a good shift in the clinic.'

'Yes, Johann, I will.'

Badboy opened his eyes.  [You shouldn't...] He stopped.  Even honesty was not an excuse for interfering in another Racer's match.

[No, you're right.]  Diamant knew what Badboy was going to say, anyone would.  [I shouldn't lie to him. Are we opening match rights as a subject for discussion, at this point?]

He glowered, because he knew he would never win that discussion. [Alvaro is different.  He can take care of himself.]

[So, we are opening it for discussion.]  Diamant straightened up the exam table and cleared away the wrappers from the supplies.

Badboy crossed his arms and pouted.  [No.]

[Good.  My shift is over.]  He took Badboy's hand, so they could walk out together.  [Let's go find some oranges to eat, and we will not betray anyone's secrets to FIA and we will not hit anyone, nor will we lie to or take over our match's bodies when they have asked us not to.]

He could push past the point, too, if he liked.  It was part of what made their relationship fun.


	3. Hidden

**Hidden**

**FIA Global Training Facility (FIA Stables)- 2017**

The FIA headquarters herd wasn’t the bits and pieces of stables and teams that no one claimed.  They were here in transition. Sometimes to holding facilities, but mostly to stable's who had bought out or settled claims on their contracts.  Those Racing Drivers lived in the light, upper part of the building and raced on the little go kart track and rally track under the French sun, outside the gorgeous villa style buildings.  

Alisar and Esteban took those out to wait with the truck while Ricky, Alvaro, Johann, and their Racing Riders, went to the head of the long, dark staircase, that lead down into the place where the FIA kept the herd that never left.

At the bottom of the stairs was a metal door like a bank vault door.  It had been painted blue at one time, but the paint had all worn thin.

Diamant groaned when he saw it.  Johann put a hand on his shoulder and murmured softly.

The Rider turned, suddenly, displacing his match’s hand.  [Johann, you need...I don’t want you to...see this. Please?  Please don’t stay down here?] He leaned his forehead against his human’s.  [I need you not to see this. This will be easier if all the humans stay outside.]

Johann looked at Ricky, who gave no outward indication of what he felt.  [Alright, treasure, I will go outside and help Esteban with the others.]

Diamant gulped, holding onto Johann’s hands for a long time, before letting go and gesturing, [Thank you.]

Johann and the other two men started back up the stairs and the Racing Riders turned back to the door.  Badboy put his hand on Diamant’s shoulder.

They opened the metal door.  It was heavily padded on the back side, with ragged insulation, and as it opened, they could hear the shrieking from behind it.

They stepped into the FIA Global Stable and let the door swing shut behind them.

\--

[It is too dark.  This is not good for Racing Drivers,] Ratchet said, ignoring the screaming, which hadn’t stopped for breath for the first 3 meters they walked down the corridor.  They were navigating around puddles. The lights were flickering on and off. There were occasional abandoned gloves or shoes, or bits of helmet.

[Are you going to freak out?  You look like you’re going to freak out.]  Badboy stepped around a puddle leaking off a pipe running along the ceiling, but Diamant walked right through it.

Diamant smiled hollowly.  [There is no place that evokes the same feelings as the place you grew up.]

[Home sweet home,] Muttered Ratchet.

Then he stopped dead.

Badboy ran into the back of him.

The three stallions stared down the hallway.  To one side, against the wall was a discarded foal sized helmet and a pile of ruined red coveralls.  Beyond it was a junction where the corridor split into a T. The three stood perfectly still while Ratchet listened.

The yellow lighting made everything dark and cast it in untrue colors.  The walls were white tile that glistened dully like they’d been greased in thick oil.

Badboy’s ears caught a faint scraping, plastic on concrete.  

The helmet at the side of the hall twisted slowly until the battered black visor was directed towards them.

The hairs on Badboy’s arms raised.

[Hello, little one,] Ratchet gestured.  [Don’t be afraid of us.]

An arm reached out of the pile of clothing and planted a bare, filthy hand open palmed on the floor.

The heap of clothing unfolded into a Racing Driver who couldn’t have been more than just weaned.  It stayed crouched on the floor on all fours, helmet fixed on them.

It screamed at them, something indecipherable.

In human speech.

Then it gave a high-pitched screech of laughter, and darted around the right-hand corner, its laughter scratching terror up their spines until it faded with the click of a door.

The three stallions remained frozen.  Badboy let a tiny wail pass his lips.

[Was that a human?!  I didn't even FEEL it,] Ratchet demanded, starting after it.

[What was it doing out of its dorm?!] Badboy asked, he stayed on Ratchet’s heel.  For solidarity.

[What dorm?  That’s not how it works, here.]  Diamant pushed to the front of the others and led them to the turn in the corridor, taking the left side.

[It went the other way.] Ratchet stared down the other corridor, this lined with doors, trying to calculate how far it would have gotten before it went through one of them.

[It will still be here when we come back,] The White stallion, said, leading the way down an equally door lined hall, [And stallion, down here, nothing will have its connections open.  Not unless it trusts you.]

[So, nothing,] Badboy murmured, remembering how Diamant had been so long ago.

As they passed between the first set of doors the sound of their footsteps set off another wave of shrieking.  It led them as the Racing Drivers ahead heard those before them scream and died away behind them after the length of a single screaming breath.

They walked in the wave of terror to another door that seemed random to Badboy, then down another hallway.  The shrieks followed them. They pushed open a door and found the room with the desk and the wall of computers.  [Do the thing, Ratchet.] Diamant stood beside the door, arms crossed.

Ratchet put the little machine into the matching slot on the computer.  It did something that Ricky had explained was essential to their task. When it made the finish line noise, he pulled it out and put it in his pocket.

[Alright,] Diamant said, simply.

He paused.

The screams had died away as their motionless waiting stopped disturbing the inmates.  As the last screams fell silent, three footsteps rang through the tile corridors like a bell being struck.  

The footsteps caught themselves a moment too late.  Someone hadn’t stopped before giving away their position.

Ratchet darted out the door and the footsteps, too heavy to be a foal’s, rang a few more times before the noise triggered the waves of screaming.  This time they didn't die out and seemed to be rippling off one another and building into a great, impossible noise.

It was impossible to track the footsteps.  It was impossible to think.

They came around a corner and slowed for breath.

[What is that?!] Ratchet screamed.  [Why are there things running around out here?]

Diamant caught Ratchet’s arm and pulled him through a door.  Badboy ducked in behind them.

[Because,] Diamant turned Ratchet’s head to face further into the room.

A little Racing Driver was standing there, arms held out from its side, chest heaving like it was gasping for its last breath.  This one was older; Grey, if that color could still be called grey, and beyond race diet thin, starving thin. It was wearing a coverall that was a few handbreadths too big at every measurement.

It screamed, outside and inside.

Badboy felt it’s touch spike through the walls in his mind, as sharp as needles, barely damaging his mental barriers, but cutting as far into him as it was possible to go, so hard the pain blanked his vision and then it withdrew just as quickly.

What followed was worse.

From within him it had pulled his deepest fears.  It threw these back at him as certainties. He was drowning in worthlessness, in fear, in loneliness.

Ratchet barked, ‘No!’ He was holding his face in one hand like he’d been scratched by the big, mean cat, that had scratched Badboy one day at a circuit.  He struck at the little Racing Driver with the strength of his Championships and the harder he pushed the little one to submit, the harder it pushed his fears back at him.  Beyond his initial reaction, he was not giving in to the fear, and Badboy could see the little one shaking. The problem was, he could see Ratchet shaking, too.

‘Stop, Ratchet,’ Diamant said, ‘That’s not how you deal with these.’  He strode forward, and the little Grey Racing Driver turned to run. Diamant caught it by the arm in a few steps and it squealed in fear and went limp.

He picked it up under one arm and brought it back.  It was still projecting the feelings, but less convincingly, now.  He passed it to Badboy.

It was heavy, and limp and its feet dragged on the ground.  He lifted it onto his shoulder in a rescue carry. When Diamant turned away to tell Ratchet they must ignore its lies, it hissed into Badboy’s mind, ‘Look how poorly he hides his hate for you.  He can see, what you are. You call yourself bad, because you are afraid. You think the name will serve as protection. No one else believes it, do they? They all think you are soft and helpless.  But you were stupid enough to believe that he did. You can’t protect anyone, you can’t even protect yourself.”

Badboy shook this off.  It had struck a wire, though, deep inside.

They looked around the place they’d chased the footsteps.  Or been chased by the screams. It was darker, if possible, the lights not even turned on, just trickling in from the next corridor back.  It was wider than a corridor. [Let’s find out where we are.] Diamant opened another door, more cautiously this time.

It was full of shelves, and cabinets.  As his eyes adjusted, Badboy saw the Racing Driver standing in the room.  It was a Yellow. It was the first clean one they’d seen the whole time they’d been here, and the first adult.  He immediately didn’t like it.

It was standing there, back to them, arms crossed.

A chill ran over Badboy’s skin.

Why was it facing the wrong way?

Diamant cleared his throat.

It didn’t react.  Ratchet went over and touched its arm, to turn it towards them.  It leaned forward without bending and then toppled, spinning as it fell and landing so it’s open face helmet was up.  Its face was made of plastic.

Badboy screamed.  

He turned to run, but the door had closed behind him and he couldn’t fumble with the handle and keep his eyes on the monster.  If he turned his back it would move, unnaturally and unstoppably and rise behind him. His blows would land harmlessly on its plastic body and it would slowly tear him apart.  He dropped the filly off his shoulder and fell back against the wall, kicking his feet, trying to scoot farther away, screaming and screaming.

The filly was trying to dig beneath him, as though by putting him between herself and the monster, she would buy a few more seconds.

His eyes were full of tears.  He didn’t want this.

The monster...

It didn’t make sense.  How could something made of plastic hurt him?  Things didn’t want to hurt.

It was a ridiculous thing to be afraid of.

A childish thing to be afraid of.

Badboy stopped screaming to take a breath.  He turned his back on the monster. When he moved, the filly crowded between he and the wall.  This fear was so much easier to fight than his own fears.

He put his arms around the filly.  ‘Shh, little one. I’ll protect you.  It will never hurt you. Shh,’ He whispered into her mind.  ‘It’s alright. I won’t let anything hurt you.’

She clung to him, sobbing.  ‘Monster, monster.’

‘It’s alright.’  He curled over her, holding her to his chest.  ‘It’s not going to get through me. I’ll protect you.’  He raised the chin of her helmet. ‘I’m going to protect you.  No matter what. If you like that, you can stop trying to make me afraid.  If I let something hurt you, you can make me hurt as much as you want, and I won’t even try to stop you.  Alright?’

Ratchet and Diamant had moved the mannequin away, while Badboy comforted the filly, and when he stood up with her, her helmet never stopped tracking it while they were in the room.  They left again, and now that Diamant had remembered their location, they went back to the corridor they had come from.

‘What is your name?’ Badboy asked the filly.

‘Brick,’ She answered.

‘How old are you?’

‘I just started being matchable.’

Did this creature think she was matchable, or was that just a convenient marker?  He hated to think what kind of match she would expect, living down here. What the humans she had experience with must be like.

She was walking beside him, now, brave as anything, and holding his hand.

[We start here.  This is going to be difficult.]  Diamant stopped in front of another door.  He looked at Badboy and Brick and shook his head.  [Stay outside.]

He opened the door and a body rushed through.  He was taller and broader than any of them, as big as any Racing Driver Badboy had ever seen.  He lunged at Ratchet, with big hands and a snarl. In the brief instant of motion, Badboy realized he was also the most muscular Racing Driver he’d ever seen.  Ratchet ducked out of his reach, no fear or anger in his body language. He’d been surprised by the foal with the claws, but this, he was absolutely prepared for.

This creature was a fighter, physical, meant to fight humans.  A soldier.

Ratchet darted in and with one fast, smooth motion, flicked the fighter’s visor up, his other hand pulling his own helmet off.  He held a grip on the much larger Racing Driver’s chin guard and locked eyes with him.

The force of Ratchet’s championships made Badboy and Diamant both look down and back away, and the filly got behind Badboy, hiding her face at the small of his back.

The fighter tried to back away, but Ratchet was holding him.  He crouched until he was on his knees, trying to look away from the little world Champion.  ‘Are you going to try that again?’ Ratchet asked, calm as an ice flow.

‘No, stallion,’ He answered, in a surprisingly soft voice.  He wouldn’t have been invited to speak much in his duty.

‘I will let you up.’  Ratchet let go of the chin guard and the fighter stood, looking at the floor.

There were fighters behind every door in the hallway.  They weren’t stalls, really. They were cells, maybe as wide as a tall man lying down, with no cupboards, no head, just a door and a drain in the floor.  They all submitted to the Champion with no hesitation. They sent them one by one to wait at the entrance.

The next hallway had something different.

 

They turned down and there was two matchable age colts, a little smaller than Brick, standing closely side by side.  One of them had his connections open, but toned down so they hadn’t felt him until they were within a car length from him.  They were wearing one Green and one Blue.

 

Ratchet looked at Diamant, who shook his head, unfamiliar.  A little growl rose from Brick, who had crowded behind them.

 

‘Go away!’ The Colt sent, extremely loudly, much stronger than it’s size or wins should have set it’s voice.

 

‘Mine!’ Growled Brick.

 

The colts stepped back, and as they moved, Badboy realized it why it was so strong.  It wasn't just the Blue with his connections open. One felt fear and at the same instant the other felt the same fear.  From one source, not two. It wasn’t the ripples of feeling of a close sending. It was the same pool of thought.

 

‘Stallion says you go wait by the door, or I will GET you.’ Brick snarled. ‘Bad Echo.’

 

The colts put their head down and ran past them to the door.  The Green was a step or two behind. They crowded away from it, because the Green’s mind was torn all on one side and soldered to the Blue’s, so there was no difference between them, one mind with all the thoughts flowing through it.

 

[That is not what we are meant to be,] Diamant groaned, watching it drop to a rapid walk once it’s second body was past them.

 

One Racing Driver in two bodies did NOT mean one mind doing the thinking for two bodies.

 

They continued down the new hall and opened the first door.  

‘Layers!’ Diamant said.  He sounded pleased.

There was a larger room, not big enough for purpose, but here there were curtained off areas for sleeping, and maybe as many Racing Drivers as a large grid’s worth.  They were in groups, and singly. A handful of them were towards the back of the room engaging in slow, sensual group sex. As they arrived, one of the Racing Drivers moved away from the group suddenly and walked, hurriedly pulling up his coverall, to join a conversation about braking.  After a moment he huffed and returned to the group on the floor.

Badboy covered the filly’s eyes.

She pushed his hand away.

‘It won’t make a difference for her,’ Diamant told him.  ‘Not by now.’

The other Racing Drivers were doing more usual Racing Driver in common space activities, sending stories, singing songs, talking about driving technique.  One to their right when they entered was ‘driving’ a shoe around the floor, making appropriate noises for the subjective speed and corners.

[Who is the lead mare, here?] Diamant walked forward.  Most of the Racing Drivers looked up, at least for a moment.

A stallion who had been radiating rage and seemed about to come to blows with another stallion, turned, leaving the other stallion, who went to join a group singing a song, as though nothing had happened.

He came forward with a friendly gesture.  [Hello. I am Water In The Puddle.]

Diamant stepped forward and ran his helmet over the other Racing Driver’s with a harsh scraping noise that made Badboy and Ratchet cringe.

[I am a Trainer.]  He barked at the stallion.  [These are my helpers. FIA has sent us to take everyone out for an inspection.  Everyone here is a mess!]

The stallion lowered his head.

[Have your helper mares take everyone to the outside door, then you will come with me.]

[Yes, Trainer,] The stallion said.

He turned and pointed at a random selection of Racing Drivers.  Stallions and Mares, some barely older than Brick.

The Racing Drivers formed a somewhat organized procession of two by two Racers, each holding the hand of the Racing Driver next to them.  They moved away out the door and down the hallway.

 

[What is going on?] Ratchet asked.

Diamant gestured for Water In The Puddle to follow him and went to the next room, another dorm.  He had Water In The Puddle repeat the procedure. There were teenagers and little Racing Drivers in this room, and some of them were taking charge of adult Racing Drivers and some were taking charge of younger Racing Drivers.

[Layers are Racing Drivers that have had Trainers rewire them, so they can be lots of Racing Drivers at once.  They are made to believe they are other Racing Drivers. That way FIA can test how to break lots more different kinds of Racing Drivers, without wasting as many lives.]

[That can’t happen,] Badboy said.  [Racing Drivers know who they are.]

[It can if they’re hurt long enough,] Diamant said.  [Punished for believing they are themselves. Trainers can make you believe things.  Believe them forever, if they tell you enough times. They will layer on as many extra Racing Drivers as they can, in one body.]  Water In The Puddle had crowded under Diamant’s arm, now, and Diamant nuzzled him sweetly, like he would a colt. They had to stop while Diamant tied the other stallion’s shoe, for which the taller stallion flopped onto the dirty, wet floor and wiggled his feet like he wasn’t old enough to be weaned.

He helped him up and brushed him off, then took his hand and led him to the next room.

[Are they safe?] Ratchet asked, quietly.

[Of course.  They’re perfectly nice.  Ordinary Racing Drivers, just more of them at a time.  FIA has no reason to practice hurting bad Racing Drivers.  They already have all of those.] His eyes flicked apologetically to Badboy.

[My dam is a layer,] Brick said.  [She is sometimes a Blue stallion from Ferrari, but most of the time she is just a Grey mare, from here.]

Diamant nodded at her.  [My dam was a layer, too.  She was a Green, and sometimes a Red mare.  I had to take care of the Red filly she was most of the time.]

Badboy listened to this.  [Will we find your dam here?]

[No,] Diamant picked at something dried onto Water In The Puddle’s coverall, [They finished breaking the last of the Racing Drivers in her mind before I was matchable.  She was put down a long time before I left.]

Water In The Puddle had started walking differently again and was watching Ratchet.  [Champion,] The gesture was drawn out, [Would you like to do something for me?]

Badboy couldn’t quite believe what was being left unsaid.

Ratchet looked at the Racing Driver sharply.  He stopped moving for a moment and then came a little closer, raising his hands and gesturing in small words.  [No, but I can see you are being generous making the offer. When you come live at my stable you will have to learn that I do not encourage the mares to pursue me to stud with them.  We will help you find an appropriate mate, but it will not be me,] He said it kindly, and firmly, and Water In The Puddle nodded.

Then looked at Badboy, with a slight helmet tilt.

[Not him.]  Diamant put his arm around Water In The Puddle’s shoulders and started walking again.  [I know someone I think you will like very much.]

They sent the last of the layers out to the doors, and instructed Alisar to come let out the Racing Drivers waiting at the bottom of the long staircase.  The doors which were individual cells, whose occupants screamed and crowded into the far corners, trying to shield their bodies and faces with their hands, were responsive in person to Ratchet’s commanding presence.

[These will be like those fighters, or like Brick.  They are able to do something that is rare or poorly understood,] Diamant explained.

Badboy was horrified by the doors to these cells.

None of the doors they had travelled through, in all this time, had been locked.  A few of them HAD locks. None of them were locked. The door to the stairs hadn’t been locked, either.

These Racing Drivers were chained by fear.

In one of the last of the cells, they found the little Red, who had been laying in the hallway when they arrived.  It was hugging onto another little Red, smaller, but not by much, and laughing brokenly at them. Its feet churned just as much in its attempt to push itself through the wall and escape them, but it’s only sound was hollow laughter.  Its twin remained silent.

When Ratchet stared it down, it stood its ground for a long, long time, before looking away.

When they sent it out to where Brick was waiting by the door to send it out, it gestured to its twin, [Don’t worry, Sunshine.  I’ll protect you.]

The little one gestured back, [Thank you, Sebastian.]

 

They walked out through the open blue door and went out of sight up the dark of the stairs.

Badboy watched them and shivered.

Diamante growled.

[They do that, sometimes.  Not just to make them anyone else, but someone else on purpose, to test how to destroy THAT Racing Driver.]  He turned away from where they’d gone and pushed past Ratchet. [You’re here, somewhere. In that group of layers, or in one of the ones from the cells.  I met you twice growing up. In Racing Drivers who didn’t last very long. They hate you a LOT.]

[Why are you going back in?]  Brick asked, when Diamante started back down the corridor.

[There’s one more thing we have to do,] He said, with defeat in his posture.  [Go up and tell Alisar to get ready to go. He’s the Yellow Ferrari stallion at the top.  You’ll like him, he is very kind, and a good game player.]

She hesitated and looked at Badboy.  [I want to stay with MY stallion.]

Badboy held his hand out.  There was nothing worse left in here than she had been living in.  He didn’t ask, just took her along with them as they walked.

They went deep inside to a door, set apart from the others, where they hadn’t been before.  The air didn't smell like the outside at all. When the door at the top of the stairwell had opened the fresh air had reminded Badboy how damp and rotten it smelled, here.

 

There hadn’t been lights for the last hallway at all, but there was discordantly blue LED light under the rim of this door.

 

It was painted blue.  Like the door to the outside.  Badboy had a horrible imagining that behind it there would be another staircase, and a descent into a level of suffering that made this one look only as bad as a usual stable.

He sighed in relief when it was just a medical center.

They went inside.  Diamante and Ratchet leading the way.  Badboy ushered the filly in ahead of him, and swung the door, stopping it just a hair before it closed.

[What are we in here for?  Are there more papers?] Ratchet asked.

Diamante turned around, and Badboy’s skin crawled.  His movements were totally different. His body language voice had changed beyond recognition.

This one did not seem perfectly nice.  He seemed threatening.

[They told you I would tell FIA everything you did and told me.  You never believed them. You never understood me,] He said, focusing on Ratchet.  [You didn’t find me. FIA sent me to you.] He laughed, harshly. [Changed me from a Driver to a Rider.  Why do you think I was the only one you ever found?]

Badboy cringed.  This was exactly what the others had been so scared would happen.  [Diamant,] He said.

Ratchet gasped.  He looked back and forth and darted to the counter at the far wall.  He started pulling open drawers like he could find a weapon. Diamant spun in place to watch his frantic search.

Badboy took a few steps into the room, around Diamante, where he could be seen.  He kept Brick behind him. She was trembling, and he wished he hadn’t brought her, but she wouldn’t have gone, anyway, no matter how he tried to send her up the stairs.

[Diamant,] He said, again.

[You think you understand me, Badboy?  You think you can understand the kind of purpose a life like mine has?]  Diamant barely took his eyes off Ratchet. The cabinets held nothing more dangerous than a clipboard, but the champion was working his way down the line of them.

Badboy purred.  [Of course I understand you.  I chose you, didn’t I? I’ve never bothered with anyone before.  You may have been born here, but you are a world class Rider. That’s YOUR strength, not something they put in to you.]

He growled, proudly.  [I AM strong.]

[Why do you say I do not understand you, my friend?  Don’t you remember our promise?] He took a step closer, while still trying to hold Brick away.  [We will not hit anyone, or betray anyone to FIA, or lie to our matches, or take over their bodies without them asking us to.  Do you remember why we laughed at that?] Because they were all lies. Because they were already doing each of those things, and they both knew they were promising a lie.

[You didn’t believe it!  You never really thought I was telling FIA things that would hurt the stable.  You never would have cared for me if you believed it,] Diamant yelled.

Ratchet was coming to the end of the line of counters, now.  The end of available distractions.

[No.  I never believed Ratchet would ever let you KNOW anything that would hurt the stable,] Badboy laughed, [And that isn’t why it is funny.]  His eyes lifted off Diamant to the fully open door behind him. [It was funny because I was teaching your match exactly how to do all of those things.]

[What?]  Diamant turned at motion, just as Johann sprinted through the open door and tackled him, ripping his helmet off.  [How did you get in here without me feeling you?!] Diamant’s protests faded as his hands were trapped.

Johann straddled his struggling Racing Rider.  [You said no one in here kept their connections open.  How long ago did you close YOURS out of habit?]

He had Diamant’s arms pinned to his sides with his legs.  

[The Riders have known all along why we were with them.  Ricky told me right after I matched with you, what FIA did and how they were hurting you.  I’ve been pretending not to know!]

Johan was screaming in frustration and Diamant was wailing and trying to throw the man off his chest.  

[They told you lies about the Grand Tour, in case you told the FIA, and I KNOW you never told them ANYTHING.  I KNOW this only happened because you came down here. Because of the old programming. I felt you change when you saw that damn blue door!  Now hold still. You’re not hurting ANYONE!]

He looked down into his other self’s eyes.

Diamant went limp as Johann took him over.

We won’t betray anyone.

We won’t hit anyone.

We won’t lie to anyone.

We won’t take over our partner’s bodies.

Unless it keeps them safe.

Unless it makes them happy.

Unless we believe they are good.


	4. Above Ground

The sky was blue.  Bright with daylight.  Clouds floated over, a long way away.

Diamant’s eyes fluttered open.

He glanced over at Johann, who was smiling a small, sad little smile at him.

He looked away.  The sky blurred.

‘You knew about the door.’

Johann’s hand took his.  ‘Yes.’

‘What if I had hurt him?’

‘We were following the whole time.  Those were my footsteps you heard.’

‘You didn’t trust me.’

‘I didn’t trust FIA.  They proved unworthy. You I trusted.’  He clasped his other hand around Diamant’s and pressed his forehead on it.  ‘You almost made it out.’

Diamant closed his eyes and his lips quivered.  ‘I fought so hard. Then we came out of that last room...and I saw the door again.  They drilled it into my head, Johann. Blue doors, blue doors, blue doors. They wanted me to kill him.  Even once the Grand Tour won, his dying would have...He’s the strongest Racer. Everyone would have known they were never safe.  That FIA could still hurt them, no matter who or where they are.’

He moaned, heartbroken, like the free Racers would have been.

‘I saw you start to turn back, even so.’

‘I tried.’

Johann stroked the hair off Diamant’s forehead.  ‘You know all those layers? The Racing Drivers who came out?  They had to believe what they were told. They can’t just stop.  It’s built into their wiring, now. They might remember, someday, but it took years to make them believe and it will take years to help them stop.  You had to believe for much longer than you have believed you could fight back.’

‘I’m not a Racing Rider.’

The thought made him as sad as almost anything else had.  He felt lost. How would he ever find himself if he didn’t have the thing he loved the most to guide him?

Johann just laughed.  ‘They could make you a human before they could change that.  You were born a Rider. When they told you they made you, it hurt you and made you believe they had more power than they did.  That’s why they did it.’

He thought about that.  He couldn’t remember ever loving karts.  Even the little karting that was available...down there.

‘I never wanted to go back, and I did and then I never believed I would ever get out.  You brought me out.’ He stroked a thumb over Johann’s hand. ‘Out of the darkness, into the light.’

He watched the birds sail overhead.

He closed his eyes and told them what he felt.  Sent the thoughts into the air, into the blue sky.

He turned onto his side, facing Johann and curled his knees up.  ‘Does Ratchet hate me?’

‘No.  Ratchet is worried you hate him.  He’s known all along. Kevin and KDub saw right through you, apparently.  When he sent Badboy to be your friend…’ Johann stopped.

Rage welled up in Diamant.  ‘What?’

Suddenly there was another hand on him.  He looked up and Badboy was outlined against the sun, making him squint too much to glare.  ‘Ratchet sent me to the medical center.  I  chose you.  Because I like sweet things.’  Badboy sat on his knees, haloed by the sun and held Diamant’s other hand.  ‘And I like good things. And you are a good, good Racing Rider.’

‘How do you know,’ Diamant grumbled.

‘Because I am not stupid enough to believe that someone can be bad who loves as much as you do, and who cares for his patients as much as you to, and who loves his family,’  Badboy turned and stroked Diamant’s helmet, lying in the grass beside Johann, ‘So much he will not deny them, even when it would make his life easier, and who will care for someone even,’ Badboy’s sending got low and hesitant, ‘When they teach your match ways to fight against you.  Please forgive me?’

‘Badboy, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you ask to be forgiven.’  His hand squeezed his best friend’s. ‘You did what I wished you would do.  There is nothing to forgive. Do we understand each other?’

‘Yes, of course we do.’

**Author's Note:**

> Notes End:  
> Please leave a comment.
> 
> If you are having a hard time thinking what to say, please consider the following (feel free to leave your letter of choice.)
> 
> A) I like this  
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> 
> Real People don't belong to me.
> 
> This story is fiction and is no reflection on anyone in it. The story does belong to me, as does the AU in which it is set.


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